The Stressed and The Dying
by Naninator
Summary: She couldn't believe that he would do this again. Major spoilers for the new episode: The Lying Detective. Read at your own risk!


_Hello again! After watching the new episode this little oneshot popped into my head._ _ **Major spoilers**_ _for the_ _new episode: The Lying Detective_ _, so please read at your own risk. It was a brilliant episode and if you have not yet seen it please do!_

 _I have been missing the easy way Molly and Sherlock interacted during season 3 and this little story was just my way of clearing the air a little between them after all that has happened recently._

 _I hope you enjoy!_

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the show or the characters. I'm just using them for my own entertainment! All mistakes are mine!**

Molly Hooper rubbed her wrist wearily across her forehead as she moved away from the patient lying on the bed in the back of the ambulance, having concluded her observations of his condition. She couldn't believe that he would do this again, especially after last time, and to top it off, he was much worse off than he had ever been. By her calculations he would be dead within weeks at the rate he was using. She didn't know whether she wanted to burst into hysterical laughter or break down in tears, her lungs straining with the stress of containing an emotional outburst.

"So, the silent treatment, is it?" The low baritone behind her sounded mocking, bored, and Molly squeezed her eyes shut tightly, grasping onto the bolted down bench in front of her as the ambulance rocked over a bump in the road. She hated it when he was high and not just because it would kill him eventually; he was always so horrible when he was like this, unable to control his words even after working so hard to do better in the last few years.

"Really, Molly, I thought you were above all that. Though you are prone to fits of sentimentality so obviously you feel I have wronged you in some terrible way – " Molly whirled to face him, her jaw clenching tightly as anger and hurt surged through her.

"Two weeks ago you texted me that I needed to be at that address with a fully equipped ambulance. Two weeks ago, when I replied to that text, asking why, you ignored me. For the last two weeks I have texted you every day, to find out if you had made up with John, to find out if you had seen R-Rosie at all," She bit her lip harshly, thoughts of that beautiful baby that she hadn't seen in over a month filling her mind, making her heart ache for missing her. "I texted you to find out if you were alright, and you gave me nothing. _Nothing_ , Sherlock. And – and the weeks before that you...you never said a word to me, you never answered the phone when I called," she broke off and dashed away the angry tears that spilled from her eyes, glaring at the consulting detective who had now sat up upon the gurney, his expression wary.

"Molly," his voice was low, almost cautionary but she needed to say this, while she had him alone, while she had the chance. Who knew when he would deign to speak to her again, to be in her presence?

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been, Sherlock?" Molly whispered, looking at her feet, a deep ache in her chest constricting the breath in her lungs. "Mary...she was my friend, too. I...I was so happy, when John and Mary asked me to be Rosie's godmother. And – and after Mary's death I did everything I could to help John in taking care of Rosie, but he...he sent me away," her voice broke and she leant back against the wall of the ambulance, feeling the rumble of the motor through her back as she looked up at the roof, the light shimmering behind her tears.

"He sent me away, said he didn't need my help anymore...wanted a clean break," She dropped her head to see Sherlock watching her, his hands shaking in his lap, and that tightness in her chest increased, until she was almost gasping with the pain. "I haven't seen Rosie in almost a month, I haven't seen _you_ in almost a month...I – I could have helped, you know?" Another tear slipped down her cheek as she met his gaze. She breathed deeply to try and slow her racing heart, struggling for calm. Sherlock never responded well to her if she was overly emotional and she was finding it very difficult to control the tremble in her voice.

"Anytime you needed, I would have been there for you, to – to help you through this." Sherlock moved closer to the edge of the gurney, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Molly – "

"You said I counted," Molly said softly, her fingers twisting together in front of her, her expression contorting painfully. "You said if it wasn't for me Moriarty would have won. Did you even mean that?" She flinched away when Sherlock reached for her, not wanting to be soothed by his touch when she was so angry with him, so disappointed in him. His hand dropped back to his lap, clenching into a fist to still the shaking.

"Molly, I – "

"Did you? I feel as though...as though the entire time I have known you, it has all been a lie." Her chin trembled, tears collecting there and spilling onto her lab coat. "You keep lying to me, Sherlock. You've been lying to everyone about how this has affected you. I know you're not okay, you haven't been okay for a long time, but this – " she gestured to the bruises and injection sites on his arms. "This is not how you get through it, Sherlock. Is it just grief, guilt, over Mary's death?" He looked away from her, his hands clenching in his lap, his body shuddering. He shook his head imperceptibly and Molly moved closer to him, a frown forming on her face as she wiped her tears away. Anger and despair filled her as she watched him shut her out.

"Then why? Is it the rush, because you know it doesn't last? I've seen more bodies than I can count, Sherlock, on the slabs. All from overdoes, all for that last rush of euphoria to escape the realities of their lives. Is it truly worth it? To allow yourself to become so horrible to the people that love you, to destroy yourself, just for the sake of a fix?"

"There is a reason why I'm doing this," Sherlock muttered, agitated, refusing to meet her eyes. Molly's frown deepened, her hands shaking in apprehension over his refusal to be open with her.

"If this is for a case again, Sherlock, so help me – " she gasped when Sherlock suddenly grabbed her wrists and yanked her closer, their faces inches apart.

"I cannot tell you why I'm doing this, Molly," he murmured, his breath hot against her cheek. "Only that it is the only way that I can save John." Her eyes widened and confusion flooded her face as she knelt before him.

"Save John? What...Sherlock, why – " He cut her off, suddenly looking desperate.

"I have _never_ lied to you, Molly. You do count and I have always trusted you. I meant it that day and I mean it now. _Please_ ," he breathed, bending his neck so he could press his forehead to hers and Molly blinked rapidly at the rush of tears that flooded her eyes at his plea. "Please believe me when I tell you this. I'm sorry for the hurtful things I've said to you, and will likely say to you, but I need you to understand that I have never, _never_ lied to you. Not when it has been so important that you know the truth." His eyes were bright and Molly bit back the protest that he _had_ lied to her, on numerous occasions, or perhaps, as she thought on it, they had been manipulations, not lies, on his part. However, that didn't excuse his behaviour. Not one bit. He pressed his forehead harder against hers, bringing her attention back to him, and his mouth lifted in a small smile.

"You have always seen through me, Molly Hooper. John was right in saying that, I never could get one past you, not now. I need you to trust me, that I know what I'm doing. I can't fail this time. _Not again_." Molly stared into his bloodshot eyes, looking deep for the truth that she hoped she would find there. He met her gaze head on, leaving himself open to her, and Molly could see it, there in his blue-green eyes, that he meant what he said. Breathing shakily, she nodded, his dark curls brushing against her forehead. Her eyes went wide when he suddenly grasped her face between his hands and he lifted his head to press a kiss against her forehead. They fluttered shut at the contact.

"Thank you, Molly Hooper," he breathed against her skin before releasing her. He looked down at her, his lips quirking in that soft smile again and Molly found herself answering it with a little one of her own. He leant back on the gurney, adjusting his robe about him and Molly stood to move to the small seat across from him. They sat in companionable silence, something that had been missing between them since the start of this whole mess, for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts, until they could feel the ambulance slowing down and Molly knew that they had reached their destination.

"I need you to stay angry with me, Molly, for when John arrives." Sherlock said abruptly, his hand scrubbing through his unruly curls. Molly huffed a laugh as she turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow.

"That won't be difficult, Sherlock. I'm still very angry with you." He chuckled softly at her reply just as the ambulance came to a stop. Molly moved to the doors and opened them, sitting on the edge to wait for John's arrival. As she stared forward she could make out the black limo holding John approaching. Her anger and hurt at the situation Sherlock had put himself in still simmered in her heart; it truly would not be difficult to stay angry with him while in John's presence. To be honest, she wasn't too keen on being in John's presence either, since he had removed Rosie from her life. She only hoped that once this mess was all sorted everything could go back to some semblance of normal. With that in mind, Molly allowed herself to soften somewhat, and her thoughts turned to Sherlock, as they often did, and she wished with all her heart that he would be alright when this was over.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Just...just, promise me that you'll be careful." She looked back at him over her shoulder, her dark hair shifting as she met his gaze. He nodded before smirking, as if any other outcome had never occurred to him.

"Of course. Now, remember," he reminded her just as the limo pulled up, "you need to be very angry with me. Remember back at the lab and how angry you were with me? That should do it. You have an excellent right hook." She bit her lip to hide her smile. She knew that it wouldn't take much effort, that day still fresh in her mind. Molly was still very furious with him and terrified that if this thing, this case he was on wasn't solved soon, then she would be right in her estimations that he would be dead within a few weeks, the rate he was going. Sucking in a deep breath to calm the turmoil that thought brought, her hands fiddling in her lap, she waited for John to exit the limo, knowing the next few minutes were going to be severely trying, particularly knowing Sherlock and his penchant for the dramatic.

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


End file.
